


Pick Up Game

by signifying_nothing



Category: EXO (Band), K-pop
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-11
Updated: 2015-12-12
Packaged: 2018-05-06 04:40:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5403335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/signifying_nothing/pseuds/signifying_nothing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>in which a group of friends play basketball at the YMCA every friday.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Kris and Kyungsoo.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which kris wu is awkward, and a pick-up game of basketball at the YMCA gets him a lot more than he asked for, in a very small package.

He thought short people were supposed to be... Cute, or something. Wasn't that the thing? Short people were cute and had big eyes and nice personalities and weren't supposed to make someone want to throttle them within an inch of their life?

Clearly, those people had never met the likes of this particular group of short people.

It wasn't that they weren't... Pleasant, it was just that they were _ferocious,_ in a way he hadn't been expecting. It was one thing to come to the YMCA and find a basketball game going on. It was another thing entirely to come to the YMCA and find a basketball game going on between five relatively short, ferocious dudes and four tall, lanky guys with long reaches and entirely too smug smiles as they passed the ball high and shot high, not bothering to properly dribble 98% of the time. 

It was kind of gross to watch, if he was honest. 

Still he sat to watch anyway, the group in the blue jerseys versus the short guys, and unsurprisingly, he found himself rooting for the short guys from the quiet bleachers. The tall guys might have had more natural talent, but the little guys had more finesse, more practiced skill, and it showed as they worked as a team to overtake the tall guys and eventually beat them, 25-23, off a three-point ball from past the half court, thrown by the short guy with light green hair and vicious looking teeth. 

It was a good game.

It was a good game and the second the buzzer went off it was like the hard tension had never been there at all, they were just a group of nine guys enjoying themselves as they passed and played like middle schoolers. It was nice. He was jealous. 

Kris wasn't good at team games. He never had been. His superior height hadn't done him any favors all through high school and then through college, except bumping his head into doorframes or his legs being too long to sit properly in a lecture hall desk, so he sat on the stairs and pissed the professors off. He didn't have many friends, he never had. He wasn't... Personable.

“Hey you!”

He jerked his head up from where he'd been staring at his iPod, watching the lyrics for the song as he scrolled down. “Huh?” he asked, and it was one of the tall guys, waving to him. 

“You! Yeah, you, with the headphones, you wanna come down and play?”

“Uh.”

“We need one more guy to even the odds against these short bastards— _ow,_ Kyungsoo!” 

The short one who had just nailed the tall one in the back of the knee—Kyungsoo--turned to look at him and Kris blinked. That one was the definition of what a short person should look like. He had fluffy, sweaty hair and pink cheeks, a fat little mouth and big eyes, but when he opened his mouth a truck driver came out and  _wow_ that was disconcerting. And attractive.

“Yeah, you have to come down and make it fair so we don't kick their asses. Again.”

“The point difference was _two,_ Kyungsoo!”

“We still won.”

Kris found himself getting up, moving down the bleachers as he pulled out his headphones and shoved his iPod into the front pocket of his backpack. He'd changed before coming down here (he couldn't very well play a pickup game in slacks and a button-down) so he was already in comfortable shorts and a t-shirt, and why not? Why shouldn't he play with them, it... it would be nice to be on a court again. He'd always loved basketball, even though he hadn't played on a school team since middle school (he was too awkward, his English too stilted, his shyness crippling) and it... It could be  _fun._

“So, Legs,” Kyungsoo said, offering out one hand as Kris made his way onto the court, wearing high-top Converse instead of proper basketball shoes. “What's your name?”

“Kris,” he replied, taking the offered handshake and reminding himself to keep it firm because _damn_ Shorty had a _grip._ Fuck. “I'm Kris.”

“Well. Kris,” Kyungsoo smiled and it was deceiving, because Kris had seen him from up in the bleachers and he knew what he was capable of. His dribbling was monstrously dextrous and fast, his passes powerful and his jumps were high. “I'm Kyungsoo. Now that introductions are over, lets play.”

It took a few minutes for Kris to find his groove in the group of men he was playing with. He had very good base skills but he didn't have much by way of grace and he sort of fell all over the place while still managing to keep the ball in-bounds and his shots fairly clean. He did tumble and fall once or twice, usually while snapping a ball back in bounds and he always got right back up. He was enjoying himself. When they started shouting between one another to communicate, he called the other men by their numbers, because he didn't know their names, though one of them shouted back,  _I'm Chanyeol!_ and that made him feel... Strangely warm-fuzzy. Like they were actually a team. 

Chanyeol had a great shot. It was incredible really, because his two-point shots were absolute shit, and he couldn't perform a lay-up to save his life, but he had long arms and his three-pointers almost always made the mark, and if they didn't, the tall guy with narrow eyes and white-blonde hair always caught the rebound and slammed it. They made Kris feel like a gangly fucking monkey, if he was honest, but it was so much fun he didn't really care.

The short guys won again anyway, 24-25, and Chanyeol groaned out loud as he stretched his arms over his head. “I don't  _want_ to pay for dinner again,” he complained, and Kyungsoo laughed at him, patted his shoulder in a very ...strangely affectionate, condescending way.

“Poor baby.”

“Fuck off,” Chanyeol pouted, jogging over to what must have been his bag to pull out a clean, dry t-shirt. “Kris, are you coming?”

“Coming where,” he asked, toweling off his hair and changing his own shirt. 

“Out to dinner,” Chanyeol supplied, grinning. “We have to pay, but the damage won't be that bad. And you did play, so you are invited.”

“You just want the price to go down,” one of the short guys shouted, and Chanyeol turned to glare at him.

“You shut up, Byun Baekhyun!”

“Oooh, using proper name order~” teased the shorter man, grinning. “You're just lucky I'm not inviting my brother.”

“Don't you _dare,_ ” Chanyeol hissed. _Hissed,_ like an aggrevated cat, and Kris laughed. 

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I'll come out.”

~

Dinner was really just eating at a roadside place with plenty of beer and laughing and friendly shoving. Kris learned all of their names, though he couldn't promise to remember them, though he did promise Kyungsoo he'd come back next Friday night for another game. 

“It was fun,” Kyungsoo said. “You're pretty good. Even if you run like a baby giraffe.”

“I thought I was the giraffe,” Chanyeol said, and Kyungsoo grinned in his direction.

“You've graduated to _baby gazelle._ ”

“Ooh, a step up, Chanyeol!” Baekhyun laughed, and Chanyeol shoved his shoulder. 

“You leave me alone, shorty.”

The friendly antagonism was fun to watch, and as they broke off one by one or sometimes in pairs, in the case of Taekwoon (the blond with the rebound skills) and Hongbin, the speedy one. Kyungsoo sighed as he pushed up away from the remnants of the meal and gave Chanyeol a salute. 

“Until next week, Chanyeol.”

“See you then,” he replied, grinning despite being sore over losing, and Kris got up too, because he really did have to go, he wanted to shower and get some sleep. 

“Where are you headed?” Kyungsoo asked, and Kris waved a hand in the direction of his apartment building. He lived six blocks down and two blocks over. It was a long walk but he was kind of self-conscious of getting on a train when he smelled like a locker room. “I live down that way too,” Kyungsoo said, and Kris found himself nodding. “Lets walk together.”

“So,” Kyungsoo said, tone conversational. “What's your last name?”

“Wu,” Kris replied. “Kris Wu.” 

“That sounds a bit too James Bond if you ask me,” Kyungsoo replied, and Kris laughed. 

“It sounds better than _Yifan Wu,_ doesn't it?”

“Aah, is that your actual name?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “No one calls me that though. I like Kris.”

“It suits you,” Kyungsoo nodded. “Being all. Tall and manga-character as you are.”

“Wait, what? Excuse me? And what's your last name anyway?

“Do,” Kyungsoo laughed. “Do Kyungsoo.” 

“Ooh, proper name order,” Kris recalled form earlier and Kyungsoo stared at him for a moment before he burst out laughing and Kris wasn't sure what he was laughing at but the sound of it made _him_ laugh. 

“I'm this way,” Kris said, when they got to the intersection of 103rd and 78th. Kyungsoo nodded and pointed down 78th. 

“I'm this way, so, I'll see you on Friday?”

“Yeah,” Kris nodded.

“Give me your number, just in case.”

Kris found himself giving Kyungsoo his number, and as he walked home he couldn't help but think about those squishy little cheeks flushed with exertion, his broad shoulders and well-toned arms, the way he was fierce when he played and so... Not, when he wasn't. 

It was weird. It was cute, and simultaneously not cute at all, and that was confusing. 

Kyungsoo was confusing.

...Kris kind of liked it.

~

Over the course of the next few weeks, Kris figured out all of their names, which was good, because being bad with names wasn't an excuse a month later, when he was insisting that he shower because jesus, he smelled disgusting and he wasn't going  _anywhere_ without getting cleaned up first. 

“You're such a prude,” Chanyeol said, walking into the locker room.

“If you want to go out in public smelling like a disgusting teenager, you go right ahead,” Hongbin chirped, already pulling off his jersey. “I'm with Kris on this one. We played for _three hours._ ”

“We _are_ later than usual,” Taekwoon murmured, finding a stall to stand in before he got undressed. 

“And _tired,_ ” Yoongi complained, nearly ripping off his clothes to throw them on a bench. “Christ. I'm too old for this shit.”

“Don't you complain about your age, Min Yoongi,” called Gunwoo, from wherever he was showering. “I don't want to hear it!”

“Don't be jealous just cos you're older than Methuselah,” Yoongi shouted back, and Gunwoo stuck his head out of the stall, his dark hair slicked back, his notoriously large eyes squinting. 

“I will fucking end you, do you understand me Min Yoongi, not even Park Jimin will be able to recognize your remains.”

“You don't scare me,” Yoongi reminded him, walking into a stall. “You run a bakery.”

“What's that got to do with anything?!”

Kris snickered and got on with his shower, washing his hair and rinsing off the sweat with the cheap soap in the wall dispenser. He'd clean up properly when he got home. In the meantime he enjoyed the banter and bickering he'd grown accustomed to over the last few weeks. He knew the bakery Gunwoo owned-- it was down the street from his office, and Gunwoo had been out at the counter when he went in last. He'd given Kris his drink for free, though he made him pay for his pastry. (“The drink supplies are cheap; the pastry stuff, not so much.”) He knew that Park Jimin, Yoongi's... Well. They hadn't outright said anything, but Kris was pretty sure they were dating—boyfriend worked in a law office doing who knew what and Yoongi gave music lessons, which he complained about  _regularly,_ though he'd given an invitation to them all to attend the recital, muttering about how some of the kids “didn't actually suck as hard as they used to,” which Kyungsoo had told Kris was Yoongi-speak for,  _I'm really proud of my kids and it would mean a lot to them if there are people in the audience who aren't their fucking parents._

Kyungsoo.

Kris bit his lip just thinking about him, rubbing at his sore shoulder under the hot water. Kyungsoo was. He was a fucking mysterious beast and he didn't know what to think of him, what to _do_ about him, because sometimes he gave off the gay vibe and sometimes he didn't (though it was harder to be gayer than Kim Jonghyun, who was friendly and flirty and always got picked up from their dinners by his lover (“Six years. We've been together _six years,_ I can't believe we haven't killed one another yet.”) and had no problem telling Kris that Kyungsoo was not only bisexual but definitely single. Kris wasn't comfortable with the idea of making the first move. Kyungsoo seemed so. Sturdy. Steadfast? He wasn't sure what the word was. He was confident and sure of himself and it made Kris nervous as much as it drew him to Kyungsoo.

“What are you doing?”

Kris yelped and jerked around to see said short man standing there in a towel, giving him an up and down.

“Have you even finished showering yet?”

“Yes!” he squeaked, resisting the urge to cover his genitals like this was a bad movie from the eighties and his crush had just walked in on him.

...Except that was _exactly what happened_ and he wanted to sink into the floor and disappear forever into the void. He welcomed death: _come for me, God, now would be good._

“Well hurry up and get out then,” he said, smiling. “We're gonna leave without you.”

“Right,” he said, trying not to sound breathless as Kyungsoo walked away, closing the shower curtain behind him and _fuck._ Fuck. That had been Do Kyungsoo's ass in a tight white towel, fuck. Why did God hate him, why did the universe hate him so much, Do Kyungsoo's ass was glorious enough in basketball shorts, why did he have to see it in a tight white towel that did nothing to hide the dimples on either side of his spine and the wideness of his thighs. God _damn it._

He jerked the knob over to cold and made himself stand there for a moment before he turned the water off to get dry and dressed. And if Kyungsoo was smirking at him as he came out, still toweling his hair, well. Kris pretended not to notice.

~

It was hard not to notice the way Kyungsoo was giving him the up and down as they walked home from dinner, though. He wasn't being subtle about it at all and Kris squirmed a little, shoved his hands harder into his pockets and pretended that if he thought about it hard enough it wouldn't happen, so he envisioned them walking home with Kyungsoo looking straight forward and not checking him out and not opening his mouth to--

“So,” Kyungsoo said, his tone entirely too conversational for Kris's taste and Kris was suddenly reminded of his first impression of Kyungsoo: _ferocious._

“So?”

“So,” Kyungsoo's fingers reached out to hook around Kris's belt loop and stop his walking. “I think you should come over to my place.”

“Um,” Kris replied intelligently, blinking about five thousand times as he turned to look at Kyungsoo. “What?”

“I think you should come over,” Kyungsoo repeated, smiling that sly smile that meant he was up to something, whether on the court or off. Kris knew it by now. Identified it by the way his eyes smiled too, entirely too pretty, entirely too... Sly.

“Why?” he choked, so nervous he was fairly sure he was going to have a heart attack.

“So we can discuss the virtues of your naked body and how much I want to fuck you into the floor.”

Oh. Well then. Kris felt all the blood drain from his face as he blinked down at Kyungsoo who was still _smirking,_ damn him, and god Kris wanted to kiss him, wanted to fucking—pin him down and fuck that smug expression off his face--

“You want that, right?” Kyungsoo asked, and Kris shivered as right there, _in public,_ Kyungsoo's hand moved to cup his groin through his jeans. “Come on, Kris. We're grown ups. Do you want to have sex with me or not?” his voice was low and their bodies were close and frankly Kris didn't really have the willpower to say no, even though in his head he was arguing, squeaking in defiance about things like true love and promiscuity and how disappointed his mother would be, or something like that.

His dick had other ideas, and Kris found himself nodding, his throat very tight.

“Then come home with me,” Kyungsoo hummed, and he dragged Kris along by the beltloop as they passed 103rd street and continued down 78th.

~

Kyungsoo's apartment building was innocuous as the man himself and it wasn't until they were inside his apartment, inside the foyer, that Kris started to have second thoughts. Shit, what if this changed their friendship, what if this changed the way the others thought about him, what if--

“Stop thinking so hard,” Kyungsoo said, as he pulled off his shoes and hung up his coat, dropped his bag to the floor and turned to look at Kris. “You're going to get wrinkles.”

Kris stopped frowning and swallowed hard instead, opening his mouth.

“If you're going to say something stupid, like you don't think we can be friends anymore after we have sex, I'm going to hit you,” Kyungsoo warned, and Kris snapped his mouth shut. “Now. Come on, shoes off, come inside.” He walked up into the house proper and Kris, properly cowed, followed meekly.

Kyungsoo's apartment was warm and the lighting was dim. There was a big fishtank in the corner and Kris only had a moment to admire the fact that the place had a full kitchen before Kyungsoo was grabbing him by the beltloops (again) and yanking him close. “Kris,” he said gently, and Kris looked down at him, blinked slowly. “You want to have sex with me, right?”

He nodded, and Kyungsoo smiled. “Okay. Just wanted to make sure.”

Then, he was getting up on his toes and wrapping his fingers in Kris's hair, dragging Kris down to kiss him and fuck, those lips, they were just as soft as they looked, chapped and balmed and so fucking _soft._ Kris moaned despite himself and Kyungsoo pulled tighter on his hair, pulling him away just enough to drag his head to one side, to plant those lips on his neck.

“K—Kyungsoo I really think I need to sit down,” he said in a rush, bent over to give the smaller man easy access, hands on his shoulders, nervous about falling over.

“Yeah,” Kyungsoo nodded, letting go however reluctantly. “I guess you do, huh. Come on,” he pulled him along down the hallway to his bedroom. Kris felt his heart pounding hard as the door opened and it looked surprisingly normal, surprisingly tame for the way Kyungsoo was manhandling him, jerking his jeans open and pulling his shirt over his head, bulling him back until he was nude and falling to the bed, gasping in surprise and alarm.

Kyungsoo was still half-dressed, his shirt off, his jeans unbuttoned but not open.

“Kyungsoo?”

“Gotta admit,” he said, yanking Kris to the edge of the bed, standing between his spread legs and fuck, _fuck_ Kyungsoo's dick was so hard in his jeans that Kris could feel the heat, the bulge against his balls and he moaned, dropping his head back. “As much as I want to suck you off, I think I'd rather just fuck you. Is that okay?”

Could he be asking a stupider question? Kris nodded and sat up on his elbows to look at Kyungsoo, standing between his legs, rocking against him like he didn't know exactly what it was doing to Kris's blood pressure.

“Can I fuck you, Yifan?”

“Yes,” he breathed, licking his lips and sitting up enough to stretch and kiss those lips, taste that balm and Kyungsoo's tongue as the younger man fumbled off to one side, his hand reaching for something Kris didn't care to notice as he murmured against his mouth. “Yes, yes I want that, please, Kyungsoo, lets fuck, shit--”

“Down,” Kyungsoo said, and Kris dropped back, reaching to hold behind his knees and spread his legs open. The lubricant Kyungsoo had grabbed was _cold_ as it squirted directly onto his skin and he yelped, though it turned quickly to a moan. Kyungsoo's palm cupped over his balls and the lube slid down between his legs. Kyungsoo's fingers followed soon after and Kris bit his lip when the first pushed in. “How long's it been,” Kyungsoo asked, just holding his finger there while Kris squirmed and bit bruises into his own lip.

“Not...” he began, cheeks flushing. “Not long. Not a guy though.” Kyungsoo grinned and Kris blushed, outright blushed like some kind of gay manga sub, hands fisting in the blanket he was laying on top of.

“Toys then, huh? I can see that,” Kyungsoo said, and he started to move his finger, smiling. “After a game on Friday, you go home and get into bed and fuck yourself. Is that what happens? Tell me,” he bent to press kisses to Kris's chest and Kris wiggled in protest, embarrassed beyond belief and so aroused he couldn't stand it. “Tell me, Yifan.”

“Yeah,” he breathed, after a moment of hesitation. His cock twitched hard as he admitted it. “Yeah, I... After games. Even... Even the first one.”

“Yeah?” Kyungsoo smiled, slipped a second finger in and cooed at the way Kris groaned, jerked his head to one side. “I bet it felt really good, huh. Do you fuck yourself slow or hard.”

“Sl... Slow,” Kris said, grunting. “Mmfuck. Slow and deep, like it like that.”

“Deep?” Kyungsoo asked, bending his fingers and Kris jerked up, gasping, eyes squeezing closed. “Oh, that's pretty, Yifan. Fuck. Knew you'd be gorgeous.” He bent to press a kiss to the inside of Kris's thigh and to the shaft of his dick. Kris felt him smiling against the skin and _whimpered._ Fuck. He was ruined. His life was ruined forever and it was all Do Kyungsoo's fault.

“Fuck me,” he said, rocking his hips down. The slow burn didn't hurt him, and _fuck_ he wanted Kyungsoo's cock in his ass _right now,_ right fucking now, buried balls-deep. “God, get _in me._ ”

“Impatient,” Kyungsoo chided, easing his fingers out. “If you wanted me so bad you should have said something weeks ago.”

“Couldn't,” Kris panted, watching as Kyungsoo unzipped his jeans and got his cock free of his briefs. Jesus. Kris was trying not to fucking salivate at the sight. Kyungsoo's cock was _big,_ uncut and the rosy-wet tip of his cock was peeking up from his foreskin and _god_ he wanted to suck his soul out through his dick but he wanted to be _fucked_ and for a moment he couldn't figure out which he wanted more.

But then Kyungsoo was pressing their balls together as he squirted lubricant over his length and okay, okay he wanted to be fucked more, right now, if you please. He watched with wide eyes and twitching hips as Kyungsoo slicked himself, pulled down his foreskin to wet his tip and Kyungsoo fucking smirked at him, moving away to grab a condom, squirting a bit of lube in before he rolled it on and got back between Kris's legs.

“Get your balls out of the way,” he said, and Kris reached to do that, cupping himself, pulling his sac up and trying not to thrust against his own wrist in a shameless, slutty way. God. _God_ Kyungsoo was pressing his tip against him and he was pushing in, oh _fuck_ he was pushing in and Kris felt his muscles all tense in protest.

“Breathe,” Kyungsoo said, and Kris took in a gulp of air. It promptly flew out of his lungs again when Kyungsoo pushed in, just far enough that his tip was past the tight clench just inside. “Oh, mm. S'good,” he murmured, rubbing the inside of Kris's thighs and waiting for him to relax again before he _pushed_ and Kris just held his balls and prayed to whatever god was listening that he didn't cum the second Kyungsoo was fully settled into him, when he was balls-deep and his hips were caught between Kris's long thighs.

“Fuck,” he whimpered, shivering, gasping at the third push and then Kyungsoo was _in him,_ his cock was buried, his dick was in Kris, all the way, his balls were resting against his ass and Kris squeezed down on the bottom of his shaft, desperate not to come, not yet, god, not yet. “Shit,” he groaned and dropped his head, squirming, wiggling even as Kyungsoo grabbed his hips to hold him still. “Oh fuck, shit, ah--”

“Stop _moving,_ ” Kyungsoo hissed, and Kris tried, he really did, but he couldn't stop the trembling of his muscles when he finally let go of his cock and reached instead to hold the bedspread, blushed, sweating, desperate. “Jesus. So tight.”

“Feels good,” Kris said, chest heaving. It did feel good. He felt fucking invaded, the pressure was unreal and so hot, Kyungsoo's cock was hot and hard and god he wanted him to _fuck_ him until he couldn't move, breathe, _think._ “Aah, feels go—good!”

Kyungsoo bounced his hips and Kris moaned. Kyungsoo _snapped_ his hips and Kris nearly shouted, trying to get up onto his elbows, trying to see, god he wanted to see, wanted to watch Kyungsoo's belly tighten, wanted to watch his arms and chest strain as he thrust. It was fucking beautiful. He trailed shivering fingers over Kyungsoo's neck and chest, rubbed gently at his nipples and reached down to feel where he was thrusting, oh god, it felt _so good,_ Kyungsoo's cock shoving in and pulling out so hard it would have hurt, if he didn't fucking love it so much.

(he'd wanted to pin Kyungsoo down and fuck him but if he was honest he liked it better like this, being fucked, feeling a dick in his ass and knowing that the man on top of him was as close as he could possibly be.)

“Aah, fuck, Yifan,” Kyungsoo licked his lips and his rhythm started to falter, his legs shaking. The denim he was still wearing was rubbing against Kris's ass. “Jerk off, fuck, I wanna see it, wanna see you blow you load with my dick in you.”

Kris reached to do just that, tugging gently at his cock and lightly patting his ballsac with his fingers, hearing himself whine like some kind of twink bitch porn star before he came, holding his cock tight, coming on Kyungsoo's stomach instead of his own and Kyungsoo-- god he moved _faster,_ harder and when he came he grunted, dragging Kris's hips to his, jerking one leg up over his shoulder and burying himself, mouthing messily at the inside of Kris's knee while he came down from his high.

Kris groaned when Kyungsoo let his leg back down and slipped out, easing off his condom to tie it and throw it in the bedside trash. “Fuck,” he complained, trembling and feeling fucking empty and worn out. “Jesus. You're a fucking _animal._ ”

“You liked it,” Kyungsoo laughed, getting out of his jeans and hopping up onto the bed to straddle and kiss Kris, slow and soft, arms bracketing his head. Kris reached to hold his back, more than content to just lay there, shivering in satisfaction. “Come on,” he hummed after a few minutes, and Kris whined.

“Why,” he asked, and Kyungsoo gave him a peck on the lips.

“Because you're not sleeping in my bed when you're sweaty and covered in lube, that's why,” he replied, carefully getting off of Kris and reaching to help him up, an arm around his waist to keep him steady. “Easy there, killer.”

“Shut up,” Kris muttered, though he let Kyungsoo help him to the bathroom, and let Kyungsoo help him shower, and maybe let Kyungsoo blow him, but only after he'd convinced him he would do him one better when he was done.

For all that he was a piss-poor communicator, Kris was very, very good with his mouth.

~

The following Friday, Hongbin watched Kris come in and fucking _cackled,_ laughed so hard he nearly fell over.

“What,” Kris asked, and Hongbin, breathless, managed to say,

“Yah, You all owe me twenty bucks! I told you they wouldn't make it another week!”

 


	2. Hongbin and Taekwoon.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which hongbin takes advantage of taekwoon's weaknesses, and taekwoon leaves kris speechless.

Hongbin cackled about winning the bet all the way through the game, and then all the way through dinner, despite numerous threats to his personal safety from Kyungsoo, who was mostly just unimpressed with his lack of self control and annoyed that he was making Kris blush self-consciously like some kind of teenager. Also probably insulted that Hongbin thought _Kyungsoo_ didn't have the self control to keep himself from jumping Kris in the showers after the game. 

Taekwoon sighed on the way to the car, hands in his pockets as Hongbin followed, his face pressed up to his camera, taking pictures of who knew what in the not-quite-dark of the streetlights and neon signs. When they reached the car his gaiety was gone and replaced with a somewhat reverent quiet. 

“I should probably apologize, huh?” he said, sliding into the passenger seat and putting his camera back in it's bag. “I feel kind of bad. I didn't mean to make Kris feel bad, it was just--”

“I don't think you made him feel bad,” Taekwoon said, starting the car and shifting into gear to get them home. “You could have been a little less crass.”

“I'm not used to not being crass,” Hongbin mumbled and Taekwoon had to admit that _that_ was extremely true. Hongbin had lived in an apartment with four other young men in college and somewhere along the way (between walking in on one another having sex or in the shower or trying to make coffee with redbull instead of water) he'd lost his filter completely, something that both disgusted and amused Taekwoon, depending on the day. It was especially bad when he wasn't at work.

Taekwoon had seen Hongbin at work, seen his eyes ice over as he commanded rooms full of interns and apprentices with firm words and an imperious face. He never joked at work, which was probably part of why he was such a shit at their basketball games: he was having fun.

“Maybe I'll get Kris a gift card to that place he's always talking about for next week, as an apology.”

“That would be nice, yes.”

Taekwoon said nothing else on the drive home as Hongbin looked through his photos, huffed and puffed in annoyance with himself and sighed. He was very animated, as usual and once they got home he bounded up the porch of their narrow home. The building itself was brick and glass; Taekwoon had designed it while still in college and Hongbin had fallen in love with the design when Taekwoon showed it to him, shyly presenting it as a possibility, when they were looking for a home in the city. 

The plot of land cost more than the house did, but Hongbin's family was  _very_ wealthy and had seen no problem with paying for the supplies to build said home, as part of their wedding present.  _You must have somewhere to live, darling,_ Hongbin's mother had said to Taekwoon, three weeks before their wedding.  _I'll not have you trapped somewhere that won't work for either of you._

Either of them. 

They were both artists in their own way. Hongbin's work had him training and observing mostly, now, and Taekwoon's architecture work led him into an office. They'd both been very active young men in college, between Basketball for both of them, Swim Team for Taekwoon and Track and Field for Hongbin, so the house was close to the YMCA, so they could still enjoy those things while living in the middle of the city. 

“Junk mail,” Hongbin complained as he opened the mailbox and pulled out the letters, pushing open their front door. “No one loves us.”

“Mm,” Taekwoon nodded, and once they were inside, shoeless and making coffee, Hongbin smirked at him. 

“Did you see,” he asked, coming up to stand directly behind Taekwoon, lips on his hairline. “The hickey on Kris's neck.”

“I don't make a habit of observing that kind of thing.”

“But you did see it,” Hongbin asked, wrapping his arms around Taekwoon's hips as though there was a chance in hell the older man was going to try and get away. “Kyungsoo marked his territory.”

“Is Kris a plot of land, now?” Taekwoon asked dryly, and Hongbin pinched his stomach.

“Stop being like that when I'm trying to get you into bed.”

“You could just ask,” Taekwoon said, voice mild.

“It's more fun this way,” Hongbin replied, pressing kisses to the soft skin behind Taekwoon's ear, hands pressed to his stomach, holding their bodies together. “Besides. Besides, _hyung,_ ” Hongbin murmured, smirking at the way Taekwoon shivered. “Don't you want to hear how much I want you?”

“Hongbin,” Taekwoon said. 

“I _do_ want you. Always want you. I could just pin you to the counter,” he pushed Taekwoon forward until his hips hit the granite. “Bend you over,” Hongbin's hands smoothed around to press Taekwoon's chest down. “And fuck you right here, until you're _crying._ ” He pushed his groin against Taekwoon's backside and was rewarded with a breathless sound, Taekwoon's hands gripping the edge of the counter, his cheek on the cool stone. 

“Hongbin,” Taekwoon protested, and Hongbin sighed, rocking his hips comfortably even as he let Taekwoon sit up onto his elbows, kissing at the back of his neck and the exposed tops of his shoulders. God, he loved that sweater, the one that showed off Taekwoon's _edible_ collarbones. It always incensed him. Every time. Which was probably why Taekwoon wore it, the little shit.

He was slipping his hands up under the sweater to rub Taekwoon's sensitive nipples when the older man finally relented, biting into his bottom lip and looking at Hongbin over his shoulder with dark, impatient eyes. “Can I take you to the bedroom now,” Hongbin asked, his erection pressed hard against Taekwoon's ass, his fingers teasing in slow circles over his chest. “I want to  _fuck_ you.”

Taekwoon made a peculiar, kittenish noise and Hongbin let him up, waited until he'd started to turn around before hefting him up. Taekwoon's wasn't light, and Hongbin wasn't weak, so the walk to their bedroom—the last room on the first floor—was a quick one. Taekwoon's small mouth worked Hongbin's neck as he walked, barefooted across the bamboo floor until he could set him onto their bed. Then, with Taekwoon sitting and himself still standing, Hongbin reached to yank his shirt over his head, mussing up his hair. Taekwoon's nimble fingers were already on the button of his jeans and he groaned in approval when they were pulled down, when Taekwoon's pretty little mouth found his navel and the skin beneath, fingers teasing at the hem of his briefs. “Ah, hyung,” he sighed, carding his fingers through Taekwoon's soft, white-blonde hair. “Don't tease too much.”

“It's only teasing if you don't follow through,” Taekwoon murmured, a smile on his lips as he pulled down the material and hummed at the sight of Hongbin's cock bobbing up against his stomach. Hongbin laughed, felt his dimples showing and reached down to cup Taekwoon's jaw in his fingers. 

“Please suck me,” he said, voice soft. It made his words even more vulgar, that tone. “Please, hyung, suck my cock with that beautiful mouth.”

“You're disgusting,” Taekwoon murmured, but his lips found Hongbin's tip and mouthed, tongue licking and _god,_ Taekwoon's mouth was perfect. Always had been. Hongbin groaned and let one hand spread against Taekwoon's jaw and throat, the other carding through his hair. Taekwoon didn't like being forced or moved around, but he did so love being touched, and as much as Hongbin knew he was vulgar. He also knew Taekwoon's cheeks blushed high when his voice got low and his words turned obscene. 

“Aah,” he moaned, when Taekwoon's head moved forward and then back, bobbing over his cock. “Ah hyung, feels so good. Love it when you do this...” His fingers carded Taekwoon's hair and his other hand felt the muscles clench as his tip hit the top of Taekwoon's throat. “Oh, yes, please. Let me fuck your throat, hyung, let me—aah--” 

Taekwoon's gag reflex was weak at best. With his hand on his throat Hongbin felt the muscles shift and give, felt the bulge of his cock pressing past and he grunted, his hand on Taekwoon's neck squeezing, just a little. He pulled back when Taekwoon started to choke, coughing, eyes wet from the pressure. His hand on Hongbin's hip was gentle. 

Hongbin pushed his cock in past the gag reflex and held his lover's head there again, and again, until Taekwoon had to pull away and cough violently, gasping for air. “Oh, hyung,” he murmured, knelt between Taekwoon's legs and looked up through his bangs where Taekwoon's eyes were red and watering, his cheeks blushed. “So good.”

Taekwoon kept coughing a little, as Hongbin worked his pants down his legs, along with his boxer-briefs. He was done, by the time Hongbin was parting his thighs, kissing the pale skin, his belly tense with arousal, his erection twitching. Hongbin smiled up at him, the devious little shit, and licked at his tip, hand wrapping around his cock to stroke firmly. “Ah,” he said, leaning back onto his hands. 

“Do you have any idea how sexy it is,” Hongbin was asking, his tone entirely too conversational. “That you get off on blowing me?” Taekwoon flushed and Hongbin kissed his belly, let his dick rub against his throat as he did so. “I bet you'd cum if I skull-fucked you long enough.”

“Shut up,” Taekwoon panted, gasping as Hongbin's head dropped. His mouth was hot and wet and the bare scrape of his teeth made Taekwoon's legs jerk apart, his body curling forward so his hands could rake over Hongbin's back, his mouth against Hongbin's dark hair. “Ah--” 

Hongbin had less gag reflex than Taekwoon. He bobbed his head hard and fast, pressing Taekwoon's tip down his throat with every movement. He paid very close attention to the nails in his back, to the moaning in his hair and the tensing of the thighs on either side of his head because Taekwoon couldn't warn him that he was coming, couldn't get the words out. He just made a strangled noise and dug his nails in and Hongbin swallowed his cock all the way down, feeling it twitch, feeling his balls against his chin. He didn't pull up until Taekwoon whimpered, tugging at his hair and trying to pull him up. 

He went, of course, and Taekwoon kissed him desperately, hands fisted in his hair, dragging him up and forward to be resting between his open legs. Hongbin couldn't help but grin into the kiss. People could think Taekwoon was uptight and humorless all they wanted. They could think he was uptight, too strict for Hongbin's wild brightness all they wanted. 

But the honest truth was that they wouldn't have each other any other way. Hongbin kissed Taekwoon as they both wiggled up the bed, as the blankets got disheveled and Taekwoon knocked the hand-set of their house phone to the ground in his blind scramble for the lubricant, since he wouldn't pull away from Hongbin's mouth. Hongbin bit his lips, let their tongues slip together and reached to take the bottle away from Taekwoon with surprising patience. 

It was Taekwoon who was flushed, squirming, clawing at Hongbin's arms and the blankets as Hongbin's fingers slid between his legs and into his body. He rocked on his hand immediately, panting and reaching back to hold the bedframe, his bottom lip bitten between his teeth. 

“You're so pretty, hyung,” Hongbin murmured, licking at his nipple and fucking him with two fingers, listening to him groan and mewl impatiently. “Love it when you want me.”

“Always want you,” Taekwoon whispered in a moment of quiet honesty, squeezing around his digits and whining. “ _Want_ you, Hongbinah, _please._ ” Aah, Hongbin loved it when Taekwoon got like this. Needy, wanton, slutty. It was his best kept secret, honestly. No one would ever guess that Taekwoon Jung, Architect and king of the Resting Bitch Face, turned into a minx in bed. 

“You want me?” Hongbin asked, getting up, grabbing the lube with one hand. Two fingers was enough. They had sex every other day for Christ's sake. “You want me to fuck you, mm? To fuck your ass, hyung, you want me to _fuck_ you?” He knew he shouldn't tease. He knew it made Taekwoon impatient and weak but it was so good, when he reached to rub his tip against his ass and Taekwoon moaned, threw his head to one side and raked his nails up his legs. 

“Let me mark you,” he breathed, just pressing his tip inside, pulling back. “Tell me I can leave you fucking bruised up and god, hyung I will fuck you, I will fuck you so hard you won't be able to _walk_ tomorrow.”

“Please,” Taekwoon was panting, his hands scrabbling, on Hongbin's belly, on his chest and shoulders. His eyes were wide and wild and _god_ he was beautiful and he was all Hongbin's. All his, forever. “Please, Hongbinah please.” Hongbin pushed in just past his tip and Taekwoon gasp-wailed, back arching up. 

“You're so beautiful,” Hongbin whispered, and the push was slow and even. Taekwoon shivered, shook and wiggled his hips until Hongbin was settled against him and he took deep, slow breaths, his hands on Hongbin's shoulders. “I want to mark you.”

“Not--” Not high on the throat, not where a turtleneck sweater wouldn't cover and Hongbin buried his face against the lower half of Taekwoon's neck where it met his shoulder and clavicle and he bit, sucked viciously to the sound of Taekwoon gasping high and sweet, fingers digging into his back. “Ah, Hongbin--” 

“Mmm,” Hongbin grunted, started to snap his hips back and forth. He worked to leave a big, ugly bruise on Taekwoon's throat, to make him shriek in pain and overstimulation when he lathed over it with his tongue. One forearm braced his weight, but his free hand pinched and pulled at Taekwoon's nipple until he was panting, whimpering in pain. 

“Hongbinah, hurts, please--” Hongbin sat up to lick over the abused, surely bruised nipple and was unsurprised that when he pushed his hips down, Taekwoon's cock was hard against his belly. 

“Slut,” he accused, and Taekwoon whined, hands fisted in the bedspread to either side of his head, his elbows bent up into the air. “You want my dick this badly, so bad you get hard again?” He thrust hard and enjoyed the way Taekwoon gasped at the pressure on his balls. “I'm going to make you cum just like this,” he grinned, thrusting again. “I'm not going to touch you. And you're not going to touch yourself and you're going to fucking cum just like this hyung, with my dick in you and your _slut_ cock rubbing on me like a fucking teenager--”

“Hongbin,” Taekwoon gasped, his hips jerking up on Hongbin's pull down. “Hongbin, Hongbinah, ah--” 

Hongbin usually liked to make it last. He liked to tease Taekwoon into a frenzy and fuck him until he was nearly unconscious, but with that big bruised mark on his throat and his still red-eyes and his swollen lips he just didn't want to fucking  _wait._

He purposely pressed his belly down and let Taekwoon work himself on his length, jerking, panting, pleading until he was coming, clenching, whining out in pleasure and only then did he pin his hips down, fuck him hard and fast while he gasped and clawed at his arms, making the softest of sounds when Hongbin pushed down hard against him and buried his face in his neck, licking at that mark, sucking it softly. 

“Hongbinah,” he whispered, wrapping his long legs over the back of Hongbin's thighs, pressing his hands against his upper back. “Hongbinah, I love you.”

“Love you too,” he replied, sitting up to kiss him properly, to rock himself soft and kiss Taekwoon until his lips were dark red. “Love you so much, hyung.”

Hongbin would never forget what Taekwoon gave up to be with him. When they got married, Taekwoon might have gained Hongbin's family but he'd lost his own, his parents and siblings, their children. When Taekwoon said he loved Hongbin it made him feel very humbled and very... Very lucky. Because Taekwoon's parents had forced him to choose and he'd still chosen Hongbin, who was happy-go-lucky and foolish, who loved him desperately, who called him  _hyung_ and re-learned his parents native language because he knew what speaking Korean did to Taekwoon and because he knew Taekwoon missed it. 

They laid there and kissed for a long time, until Taekwoon made a soft, questioning noise. 

“S'past midnight,” Hongbin murmured, pushing himself up and away from his lover. “Come on. Lets go get cleaned up.” Taekwoon protested getting out of bed, whined when Hongbin nearly dragged him, but cooed his way through their shower, sighed as he was toweled off and smiled as he got back into bed, the blanket stripped and thrown to the floor, the sheets soft and cool. 

“Lazy,” Hongbin accused, and Taekwoon hummed, reaching out his arms. Hongbin crept into them and kissed him, kissed him until Taekwoon was mostly asleep, tucked into his chest. He was warm, and Hongbin smiled down at him. He had pictures of Taekwoon in every position, at every moment of the day, and yet somehow this was the one he always wanted one more shot of. Taekwoon relaxed, soft against him, comfortable and sleepy. He was beautiful. 

He was so beautiful, and Hongbin was so lucky.

~

“And you were making fun of _my_ hickey last week,” Kris muttered, and Taekwoon flushed. 

“I wasn't making fun of anything,” he said, almost prim. “Hongbin was making fun of you.” Kris squinted at him and Taekwoon blushed further, intensely uncomfortable under his scrutiny. It wasn't that it was Kris looking at him, it was just-- that anyone was looking at him, and he hurried into the showers, practically hiding himself in a stall. 

He'd been able to hide the mark at work, of course. It was low on his throat and easily covered with a button-down, but his basketball jersey hid nothing, and while he could count on everybody else not to say anything, Kris didn't really know better yet, so he couldn't blame him. 

He sat on the bench in the shower stall and pressed his flushed face into his cool hands, trying not to be so embarrassed. There wasn't anything to be embarrassed about! He and Hongbin had sex, why—what bothered him so much about having a mark, proving it, why did he feel like he was stripped naked instead of just--

“Hyung?” 

Hongbin's voice made Taekwoon answer without really thinking, a soft “mm?” from where he was hiding, close to tears with embarrassment and self-directed agitation. 

“Hyung,” Hongbin said, sitting down beside him and offering his hand. “Do you want to go home?” It was an offer to get him out of being so self-conscious, Taekwoon knew that. Hongbin was always finding outs for him, even when it made him miss out on something he liked so much as their weekly basketball games. He shook his head and swallowed. 

“I just. Need a minute. I'll be out.”

“Okay,” Hongbin said, kissing his temple. “If you change your mind, just let me know.”

“I will. Promise,” he said, before Hongbin could say it. “I promise.”

“Okay,” Hongbin said, and he got up to leave the locker room just as someone else was coming in. “Hey Baekhyun!”

“Hi~” he chirped, and Taekwoon swallowed, slowly getting up. Baekhyun wouldn't say anything, he always came in with bruises and bite marks and all kinds of... Sexual remnants all over him and no one bothered to say anything about it anymore. 

“Ah, Taekwoon! I was wondering where you were,” Baekhyun said as Taekwoon emerged from the shower like some kind of. Poltergeist or something. “How are you, how's work been?”

Like every other week, Baekhyun was selectively blind, didn't even let his eyes wander down Taekwoon's neck from his face and Taekwoon was so grateful. He shrugged as Baekhyun pulled off his long-sleeved shirt, arms covered in small bruises, bruisemarks around his wrists. 

“Yeah I can imagine office stuff makes you shrug a lot,” he said, and Taekwoon nodded. 

“Well. At least it's steady, yeah? And you like it, mostly, right?” Taekwoon nodded again, and Baekhyun smiled that pretty, box-shaped smile. “Good! Lets play a good game today, okay? Maybe you'll win this time!”

Taekwoon couldn't help but smile and bob his head, heading back out into the gym and leaving Baekhyun to finish changing. He was always so personable, so  _nice._ Kind, was a better word. Baekhyun always had an ear, a hand, a shoulder to offer to anyone and that was one of the best things about him. Taekwoon appreciated it, even when all Baekhyun could offer him were words and happy smiles. They were friends. And Taekwoon was glad to have him. 

~

“Ah,” Kris said, and Taekwoon turned to look at him. “Ah, I just. I'm sorry, about earlier.” Taekwoon blinked. “For...” Kris waved his hand in the direction of his own neck and Taekwoon nodded in understanding. “I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable or anything. Gunwoo told me, so I. I won't do it again.”

“You're forgiven,” Taekwoon replied, voice mild. “But...”

“But?”

“I'm going to kick your ass in one-on-one later, so prepare yourself.”

Taekwoon found great enjoyment in the way Kris gaped at him, and also in the way Hongbin started cackling behind him, laughing so hard he almost fell over.

 


End file.
